


Raised In Deep Water

by TheBlindBandit



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Gen, Homeworld Hierarchy, Origin Story, Pearl Solidarity, Pearl/Space, Pearlrose Week 2015, Pink Diamond, Pink Diamond Theory, Pre-Series, Slavery, Spaceships, homeworld remains the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/pseuds/TheBlindBandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pearl has a very active imagination. It’s the one unassailable sanctuary afforded her. Or: a pearl, nearing the end of her considerable tether, in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raised In Deep Water

The handle of the parasol rests easily and familiarly in her hand, at first - the way she’s held it on hundreds of occasions, ensuring that bright sunlight reflects off Spinel’s gem in the most appealing of ways at all times. Then she stops, takes a deep breath and an infusion of courage welling up from some place she doesn’t know, and shifts her hold to resemble the way she’s seen Gems grasp a sword handle - and everything changes.

What is valued and celebrated everywhere she turns is strength and size, and Pearl has neither. Her spindly build, while providing a certain decorative elegance to her movements, would make her completely unsuited to most tactics used by Homeworld shock troops. She’s heard the speeches, of course - she _does_ belong to a very important Gem, after all - and she’s seen the drills and marches, the hulking Amethysts shaking the ground as they went past, the quartz regiments demanding respect and-

and-

_why not her?_

It’s a ridiculous notion. Nobody could ever, ever know, of course, or she’d be bound for some scrap heap or other, so the entire enterprise was an exercise in absurdity - absurdity that could get her rather messily decommissioned, even - but-

but-

She listens to the small voice that pipes up in her head every so often, the one all pearls are highly efficiently and mercilessly trained to suppress and silence: _Is it really so bad to want things?_

The parasol may not be very aerodynamically shaped, but it makes an extremely satisfying _whoosh_ as it cuts through the air.

-

She’s probably not supposed to have access to Spinel’s private terminal. Perhaps even the concept of pearls having the faintest idea of how to use personal terminals is something most Gems would find laughable. Then again, perhaps Spinel shouldn’t have been as lazy as to completely neglect the option to make the activation pad keyed to her gem, or should have at least thought to put a harder password on it than **[DIAMOND]**.

Pearl doesn’t care about what Spinel gets up to, really, or who she’s ineffectually and transparently conspiring with or against, or whatever other incriminating material might be lying around for the taking. She does, however, find some amusement in Spinel’s frustration at constantly having to cancel subscriptions to aerospace engineering journals she doesn’t recall ever signing up for.

As soon as the doors of the estate close behind Spinel, Pearl flies from her post where she’s expected to remain calmly standing for however long it takes her owner to come back, and rushes directly into the veritable storm of information she can call up with but a brush of her fingers against the terminal’s holographic surface.

-

It isn’t so unlike dance, in the end.

It helps, of course, to conceptualise new things using other, more familiar ones. Pearl finds, fairly quickly, that there is little to no difference between the suggested close-quarters pre-engagement stance for a rapier she’s read so much about, and a basic pearl-default dance move that she had to repeat over and over and over again during her initial training.

She thinks back to a few nights ago, when a high-ranking quartz commander handed her a sword to hold. Pearl barely managed to contain her excitement then, trying to get some sort of feel for the weapon - even knowing the size of it was all wrong for her - without drawing unwanted attention to herself, and incurring Spinel’s inevitable wrath by fidgeting noticeably.

She picks out a thin piece of scrap piping and determines that, of all the various objects she’s so far used for practice, it best replicates the sensation of holding an actual sword - as far as she’s managed to glean, anyway.

Spinel announced she’d be gone for at least twelve rotations this time, on business she claimed only she was qualified to take care of, making sure her pearl was aware of what a completely irreplaceably important Gem she had the honour of belonging to. The shutters were down on all the windows, and all the doors locked - Pearl would always double-check, since Spinel sometimes missed a few when she went out on longer trips like this one.

As soon as she feels safe enough, Pearl lines a dozen old pillows along the estate’s longest hallway, and proceeds to wage intense war against them.

-

Sometimes, when the chatter of her owner’s guests has faded into background noise, she thinks about escape velocities.

Thinking in terms of escape _speeds_ would be sufficient for her purposes, perhaps, and simplify calculations to boot, but Pearl likes focus and direction. The interplay of forces is always a lovely thing to consider on its own, but imagining a storm of vectors precisely placed all around her makes her want to project a holographic overlay to cover her surroundings.

Sometimes she lets her mind wander further from purely technical and mechanical matters and into the realm of symbolism and metaphor and abstraction nobody even suspects pearls are capable of, but she never fails to rush and rein it in. The connotations carried by the word _escape_ are absurd and ridiculous and, in the end, utterly irrelevant. There are thousands of planets under Gem control all over the universe, and pearls are pearls on each and every one.

-

Still, she has a favourite fantasy she likes to entertain: Spinel finally gets fed up, orders her disposal and calls in the standard removal squad to take her away, but Pearl’s upon the unsuspecting lot in the blink of an eye, with a finely crafted sword that she always just happens to have on her person (some details she’s yet to work out, admittedly - but sometimes the sword is a breathtaking iridescent thing she’s able to summon from her gem at will, just like all the true Gem warriors she’s seen and heard boast), fighting them off with beautiful, precise technique before anyone can even lay a hand on her. Then she escapes, to… somewhere.

Maybe she hijacks a ship, a small vessel, one nobody would even think to miss. Or, whyever not, one of the medium-length speeders that make the most obnoxious of noises while accelerating, but that definitely offer the most cost-effective options for atmospheric flight. Perhaps a cruiser would suit-

Pinning down her preferred ship model distracts her a bit before, inevitably, the whole thing screeches to a halt on the question, once more, of _Where to?_

-

She comes across it one day while Spinel is away - again, on _extremely important business_ , and Pearl counts her blessings once more. It’s strange and exhilarating, thinking of the careful border of _wanted_ and _unwanted_ she’s doing a balancing act on. Spinel never takes her on these supposedly professional excursions, and is always quick to rebuke her and rant at length about what a disappointment Pearl has turned out to be, and what a bad deal that discount ended up being - but she still puts her on display whenever she has important guests. Maybe it’s supposed to be some sort of statement, but Spinel doesn’t seem to be a particularly politically savvy individual - leading, in no small part, to the exact predicament of dwindling power, influence, and means she so painfully obviously finds herself in now. Figuring out the exact logic of her actions is quite beyond Pearl, however. Perhaps it’s just the fact that Spinel can’t afford to have a new pearl made, so she has to make do with what she already has.

It gives Pearl the most marvellous of opportunities, though, and she often thinks of how lucky she is, to be so neglected.

She doesn’t know why a Spinel would have such a thing - perhaps it, along with the other fascinating items to be found in the apparently abandoned storage room, belonged to the estate’s previous occupant - but the old, dusty frame of the pilot training simulator is unmistakeable. Pearl has seen such devices in use plenty of times, often for showcases and publically broadcast Academy entrance challenges, but she’s never been so close to one, and she’s certainly never touched one.

A few flipped switches and button presses later, it seems to be in working order save for the screen, but Pearl knows how to fix it within moments of laying eyes on its wiry insides. It’s a simple matter of changing the rusted-over backlight emitter connectors, and, as luck would have it, she passed by an old holoprojector tablet on her way from the storage room entrance.

Pearl’s fingers are quick and sure and well-practiced in fiddling by now, so the tablet gives up the required parts in seconds and the dim room is lit up by a simulated starscape in no time at all. It’s almost blinding at first, after the gloom she’s gotten used to while working in secret in the windowless space. But then the view coalesces into a familiar set of constellations, and the buttons and switches lining the arms of the grimy pilot’s chair light up with an incredibly tempting buzz.

It will surely provide a nice synergy, studying both piloting and construction. Doing things in parallel could lead to a much finer understanding of both-

Pearl jolts, realising how late it’s gotten with a hefty dose of regret, then turns off the power in the entire room and dashes out and through the long hallway. She’s cutting it close, but she cleans herself off and makes herself look presentable just in time to welcome Spinel home, hopefully without arousing suspicion or annoyance.

She attends, quietly and properly and just like she’s supposed to, but there’s a bright set of strobe stars tempting her whenever she closes her eyes, and her fingers itch with a desire to curl around the flight controls.

-

It’s sad that, for pearls, there are so very few opportunities to talk, or communicate at all.

There are occasionally small, fleeting touches, in passing - perhaps for reassurance, or the barest of comforts provided by the tangible physical presence of someone who might understand in ways no Gem could. Even rarer are the notes, passed on easily destroyed scraps nobody would ever think to miss, containing messages no Gem would consider worth her time. But even so, pearls don’t dare do all that much, because there always, always seems to be that strange scrutiny laced with utter disregard fixed upon all of them.

Sometimes, in the unthinkably rebellious blaze of glory of her grand escape, she is accompanied by other pearls. One or two, at first, familiar to her, belonging to Spinel’s frequent guests - there’s Beryl’s strikingly red-clad pearl, who she’s complained about being terribly outdated and due for scrapping. Watching her back during the carefully choreographed scuffle with the dock guards is Benitoite’s pearl, the one who’d once shot Pearl a rather inexplicable jaunty grin from behind both of their owners’ backs - the attitude stuck with Pearl for days afterwards, and she’s often wished to see that particular pearl again, if only to ask her for an explanation. It’s Councilmember Jadeite’s pearl she’s seen around the most, so she often takes point in their little operation, calling out flanking opportunities and escape shortcuts.

There are more and more pearls accompanying them every time she lets her mind run through the scenario. Until, finally, it ends with an entire ark full of pearls, going everywhere and nowhere.

Then she berates herself for never actually asking any of them, even in a daydream where they had all the time in the world, if they _wanted_ to go. She just assumed they all thought as she did, and doesn’t that make her no better than any uncaring pearlowner?

-

She is happiest when she ends up posted by one of the large hallway windows. There are fewer requests there, fewer things to hold or store or handle, fewer distractions - not many Gems loiter around before entering the meeting room, after all. A usually quick look at her (while she hides her hands behind her back, clasps them tight to stop any errant twitch, and focuses on standing very, very still), and perhaps an appreciative - or envious - murmur to Spinel about having acquired a pearl of such exquisite make, and she’s more often than not left to her own devices for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes she amuses herself by running calculations in her head. It’s not really like anyone actually needs her _there_ there, right? She might as well make use of the time, and make things more bearable for herself.

Today she focuses on the gradient of effective temperature on the surface of Homeworld’s twin suns. The differences are remarkable - one burns pure white where the other glows a distinct blue, and, if Pearl’s most recent assumptions about the local gravitational acceleration differences between their poles and their equatorial areas are correct, the blue isn’t as bright when viewed from planetside as one would perhaps at first expect. On a more practical note, there are influences there that factor into the construction of ablative armour on all spacecraft docking on Homeworld. There is also the matter of it being graced by a circumstellar disk of dust, which, according to the recent reading she’s managed to sneak in with Spinel away on certainly highly important off-planet business-

“Quite a pleasant evening we’re having. It seems such a waste to have to spend it indoors, don’t you think?”

Pearl clings to every bit of training she’s had in her life and everything they’ve drilled into her since her creation and manages not to gape open-mouthed at the Gem who’s chosen to just casually walk over to her and… _engage her in conversation_?

The Gem, a vision of loveliness and obvious importance that Pearl has never seen visit before, looks at her expectantly, a patient smile hovering around her lips. The gaze she’s casting over Pearl is mild and tolerant and seems to clash with her imposing stature, but the expectant note in it is clear.

Pearls are meant to be seen, not heard, and they’re certainly not supposed to think and express opinion, but they’re also meant to obey directives and- this is rather a conflicting request, isn’t it? There is so much about everything that she is and that she’s supposed to be that makes no sense whatsoever as soon as she stops to think about it, and Pearl manages little more than a probably unappealing _uhhhh-_ sound. The Gem gives a small laugh at Pearl’s confused antics, voluminous pink curls dancing about with her every movement, but somehow it doesn’t come off as cruel or unkind at all, which is perhaps the most marvellous aspect of the whole situation.

Whatever it is that might be forming between them and almost eking out a reply from Pearl is suddenly and thoroughly interrupted by Spinel sauntering over to loudly and cloyingly express relief at having found her guest of honour, _Her Inimitable Excellency Pink Diamond_ , once more. Spinel doesn’t spare Pearl another glance, but Pink Diamond gives her a small nod as if in greeting, before allowing herself to be ushered back to the crowded centre of the room.

The night goes on, and Pearl tries to focus on the blue sun temperatures that range from seven to over ten thousands degrees, which, going longitudinally, would equal a shift of-

_why is she staring like that?_

A thousand variations of _have I done something wrong?_ breed in Pearl’s head, but no, she’s been very, very careful, there’s no way she’s let anything slip. Her facade is absolutely perfect - well, barring Spinel’s usual complaints. She wants to toy with the frilly material of her collar every time the incredibly impressive Gem - _Pink Diamond herself_ \- looks her way, but she knows that would be the absolute worst thing she could do - her eyes briefly dart to Spinel who, thankfully, seems to be occupied elsewhere.

The evening seems to stretch on forever, and Pearl isn’t sure if she fears Pink Diamond dropping by to talk to her again, or yearns for it.

-

Pearls know things because, despite the fact that they’re expected to immediately attend their superiors upon every word and order, nobody actually seems to think they _listen_.

Perhaps someone does, Pearl thinks. Perhaps someone has used this as a weapon against a political rival. Perhaps Pink Diamond would, and that was the reasoning behind her interest?

Pearl pays special attention to word of her, and Pink Diamond figures in her daydreams more and more. Sweeping down from the sky - occasionally, if Pearl is feeling particularly bold, with what seems like an entire armada - and snatching Pearl away on the PX-brand Series 5 cruiser she’s recently acquired that’s made her the talk of at least the last three parties Pearl’s had to attend. She’s never seen what one actually looks like, but she’s familiar enough with the Series 4 model and she’s aware enough of where _she_ would suggest improvements to extrapolate.

This particular fantasy doesn’t last too long, either. There is the truth, spoken and overheard so often it’s ingrained in her mind by now - _Pink Diamond doesn’t want a pearl_.

-

She’s been working on the blueprint for several dozen rotations now - and seeing the wonderfully detailed, technically accurate projection of a perfectly flight-capable craft of her own original design come together fills her with glee she can barely contain. She feels it’s a pity how little use Spinel seems to have for her holograms - a skill she would be prepared to say she takes pride in, if pride were something allowed her.

It’s the second rotation of Spinel’s five-rotation absence, and, according to Pearl’s finely tuned schedule, it’s time for an exercise in battling several opponents at once. The available literature on the subject seemed surprisingly lacking, but Pearl has found a collection of practical tips that-

“I am _incredibly_ honoured by your request, Your Excellency. If you would come this way-”

The metal pipe she likes to think of as her sword clatters from Pearl’s suddenly nerveless fingers. It’s Spinel, back much earlier than expected, and with _Pink_ _Diamond_ , no less-

She can’t tell what they’re talking about through the rushing sound in her ears, but it is very, very obvious that they’re coming inexorably closer. Pearl tries and fails to regain even the tiniest bit of calm, and hastily kicks the _sword_ underneath the nearest of the tables lining the hallway. Spinel and her guest are almost upon her and there is no way this can end in anything but catastrophe - the accursed pipe is about to roll back out into the open, half of it already peeking out from beneath the white tablecloth, and Pearl is nowhere near where she’s supposed to be standing, and her hair is a complete mess, besides-

In a final desperate move, Pearl dives under the table herself, and clamps a hand over her mouth, but-

“ _You_!”

It is Spinel, unmistakably, stomping around the corner and to where Pearl’s made a feeble attempt at hiding, apparently for naught. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at your post? Come out of there!”

Pearl emerges from under the tablecloth, wincing as she almost slams her face into Spinel’s angry one. She weakly stammers out the first excuse she can think of. “I was just, er, dusting…”

“Did I tell you to _dust_? Get up! You are an embarrassment!”

Pearl stumbles to her feet, old length of pipe clutched in hand so desperately that her knuckles are drained of all colour. She can’t help a flinch at Spinel’s shouting, and risks a look up at Pink Diamond, asking, pleading for- something.

But she must have misunderstood, or perhaps the whole thing was a big construct of her own wishful thinking from the start, because Pink Diamond merely looks away and makes no movement to help her. And, of course, why would she? Pearl has been nothing but utterly ridiculous.

Spinel grabs the pipe and rips it out of Pearl’s hold with no effort involved, and really, isn’t _that_ just a splendidly pleasant way for the truth of her weakness and uselessness in any sort of actual combat situation to be driven home.

“And what are you doing with this- this _garbage_?” Pearl doesn’t even try answering this time, and she highly doubts an answer is even wanted or expected of her at this point. Spinel turns to her guest with an amazing display of her trademark skill of changing her demeanour at the drop of a hat and turning almost anything into grovelling. “Your Excellency, I apologise for this flagrant display of misconduct. This unit does seem to be something of a nuisance, and a disappointment, performance-wise - though her appearance is exquisite. I’ve lodged a complaint with the manufacturer already, but, really, with the amount I paid, you’d think they’d have better quality control-”

It takes all of her willpower for Pearl to restrain another flinch at the words. She thinks of all her careful pretense, and tries to stem the growing feeling of what can only be described as disappointment in herself. She thought she was so convincing! She was sure she was doing so well, she was almost _pleased_ by her ability to run circles around the unsuspecting Spinel, and now, with a single slip, her prospects were looking increasingly grim. After all, for a pearl, _unwanted_ meant little better than a death sentence.

“Were you thinking of having her replaced? I hear the newer ones come with a warranty.” Pink Diamond sounds almost disinterested, and Pearl bows her head even further.

“She’s been with me too long - I have the paperwork in my office somewhere, but it’s all expired. I think she has a few more rotations in her, and I’m a patient enough Gem-,” ah, there’s Spinel, pillar of Gem society and always so benevolent - and Pearl marvels at the sudden burst of bitterness she feels, “providing she doesn’t start acting up even worse, I can tolerate her antics for a while more.”

The current state of the estate’s storage space flashes in Pearl’s mind, and _oh, if only she knew_ fights an impressive duel with _oh, no, she must never, ever find out_.

“I could take her off your hands.”

_…what?_

“I’ve been looking into getting one of these for a while now. I’d be prepared to purchase her off you - immediately, if you want. Just say the word and I’ll fetch my holochip.”

The lie drips smoothly from Pink Diamond’s lips, and Pearl is impressed. She knows it’s patently false: _Pink Diamond refuses to get with the times_ , the rumours said, _Pink Diamond bucks convention,_ the gossip went, _her ideas are entirely unpractical and so very unfashionable, what is she even thinking-_

_Pink Diamond doesn’t want a pearl._

“That, well- forgive me, Your Excellency, this is something of an unexpected development, but-”

“Perhaps,” it takes Pearl a moment to fully comprehend that she is actually daring to speak, and her voice feels so loud in her own ears that she has to fight not to clamp her hands over her mouth - judging by her glare, Spinel wants to do the very same thing. But it hardly matters what she thinks now: one way or the other, their time together is over, and besides - Pearl still owes Pink Diamond a conversation. “Third District’s Overseer Aventurine has a pearl she’s been talking about getting rid of, one with some knowledge of botany,” _who sometimes draws small flowers on scraps of mulch-wrapping_ , but that part Pearl keeps to herself, “I think she’d be able to better complement your own interests, Your Excellency.”

Spinel is stuck spluttering indignantly, face flushed a red deeper than Pearl has ever seen on her. Pink Diamond, on the other hand, looks almost _proud_. “That is a lovely suggestion, and I thank you for the advice - I’ll certainly keep it in mind for the future. But I think I rather like _you_.” She graces Pearl with a glorious, warm beam of a smile, then turns to the still uncomprehending and livid Spinel. “I’ll reimburse you the full market price as it was on the day you first bought her, it’s hardly an issue.”

“You honour me with your generosity, Pink Diamond,” Spinel states with a deep bow, the fringe of her hair almost brushing the highly polished floor. “Pearl, fetch my holochip at once.”

The extent of her change in tone is remarkable, as is the speed with which it was achieved. Pearl mutters an acknowledgement of her order, bows, and hurries away towards the office wing. What is she retrieving, she wonders - the instrument of her own doom? Or some sort of salvation? Regardless, she finds it on the corner of the table Spinel left it on, and turns on her heel to hurry back.

Pearl worries the thin chip-card between her fingers, and she has to admit it certainly doesn’t look anything like an armada hovering gloriously on the horizon.

-

She pads obediently a small distance behind Pink Diamond as they make their way outside.

“Oh, I should mention,” Pink Diamond stops in her tracks, as if waiting for Pearl to catch up. When Pearl remains resolutely standing a respectful distance behind her, she extends a hand towards her, beckoning gently. Pearl takes the steps - barely three, but they feel like walking across a chasm - until they’re standing side by side. “I’m leaving to oversee another colonisation effort in a few rotations. I was hoping you might like to accompany me.”

Pearl can’t quite believe what she’s hearing, and keeps her face in what she hopes is still approaching a neutral expression with extreme difficulty. “In- in your ship?”

“Yes, of course.” Pink Diamond answers, obligingly, but with an undercurrent of confusion. How else would one travel through space, of course? Pearl once again feels ridiculous, but it’s nothing compared to the strange, disbelieving excitement bubbling in her chest.

She finds her voice doesn’t seem to want to work with her anymore, and her throat feels stuck with sheer disbelief. “Is it a…” She squeaks out, barely, “is it really a PX Series 5 cruiser?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it. I didn’t know you were an enthusiast!” Pink Diamond seems elated by the news, and offers Pearl her arm with another exclamation of _Oh, how delightful!_

Pearl threads both her arms around Pink Diamond’s large and pleasantly, reassuringly soft one, and does her best not to cling too desperately to this strangely wonderful and near-miraculous turnabout shaking her life.

“How do you feel,” Pink Diamond starts after a brief pause, looking at Pearl with a mischievous gleam in her eye, “about learning to fly?”


End file.
